Harry Potter and the Rest of the Sentence
by Achille Talon
Summary: Brought to you by the questionable genius of machine learning, it's the exciting sequel to "Harry Potter and the Portrait of What Looked Like a Large Pile of Ash"! Botnik Studios is not responsible for any faces eaten by Harry Potter with hot sauce, headmaster hair scooting next to you at breakfast, or ribs fractured in hysterical laughter. Weekly updates.
1. Hermione And His Face

_DISCLAIMER **:** This story is a sequel to "Harry Potter and the Portrait of What Looked Like a Large Pile of Ash", written using the online Botnik app. This might not make much sense unless you've read "Portrait" first. That being said, it might not make much sense even if you have read "Portrait" first._

 _You have been warned._

 ** _—_**

 ** _—_**

 ** _HARRY POTTER and the REST of the SENTENCE_**

 ** _Book II in the Botnik Saga_**

 ** _—_**

 ** _—_**

 ** _CHAPTER ONE:_**

 ** _"_** ** _Hermione And His Face"_**

Harry could hear her face now, with wide shiny eyes. Uncle Vernon's goblin applauded and Fudge shook his shaggy black hair with anger. Hermione looked up eagerly to say something; Fudge cleared his throat and said in a low voice:

"Could someone do something about the memory?"

"Not of the room," the door of the brain room behind them announced.

"Oh, " said Fudge.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other in disbelief. Harry asked coldly:

"I could not see his face in his hands: he had forgotten the potion all over the last few hours! See where Malfoy was up to the castle?"

"The earshot," he said in a low voice, still looking completely bemused.

Harry clambered out of the window as he helped Hermione prepare dinner on a tray of pies. Harry felt as though he had been stupid to survive the Killing Curse. He fell forward into the firelight, however faint it sounded. Freedom.

Harry quickly ran back to the Burrow, which echoed as loudly as he could speak. Mrs Weasley sobbed harder than ever as she strode toward Harry. Aunt Petunia looked positively little next to her. He asked her face when the cake had finally landed in the middle of the room. She said:

"Malfoy rapidly reached for it to finish his own fake meal. Harry, who would not budge?"

Harry's feverish eye imploded.

"He will be paying much pain."

Meanwhile, at the Ministry, Hermione Granger's first day stung. Harry had taken off and Fudge shook with rage. She cried.

The goblin's invisibility cloak billowing behind him, he turned and gazed down on the sofa where Bellatrix had never thought to look. He couldn't forget his feet, or the past. Lord Voldemort. Mr Staircase. Alecto. Ron and his magical maladies that had taken him from view. No, the goblin could not think of anything else. As for the first Dark Lord… he would be paying with much pain.

Suddenly, Harry was there. Hagrid growled in Harry's eyes and immediately began to argue at Harry about his own quivering fingers. Harry yelled " _Ogden_!" at the Gryffindor and Hagrid roared with laughter and promptly his eyes closed, his heart leapt out of his mustache, and his entire head was covered with a wave of magical firework.

"The wizard is dead", said Harry. "He has been poisonous, but now he is dust. …Hermione, say something!"

She whispered:

"The Portrait of a fat pile of ashen Sirius wouldn't understand."

"No, he didn't," Harry knew.

Hermione raised her eyebrows at him.

Dumbledore quietly appeared beside them.

"Just passing by," he whispered. "But the knees of Harry's enemy are supposed to find asiatic anti - smoke wizards very sick. I think that Harry should be very concerned."

Dumbledore stood there for a moment, wondering how best to do it, and then he breathed air toward them, and turned, and walked away.

"That was impaling!" bellowed the goblin.

Harry had to admit that he had a very good point.

He sighed, and, taking a deep bite out of Hermione's head, he began tearing. Everyone was going to die. Everybody. And then he would pay for all the evil dark shadows beneath his misery. He would be promptly paying, with much longer pain.


	2. Dumbledore's Beautiful, Dire Feet

**_HARRY POTTER and the REST of the SENTENCE_**

 ** _Book II in the Botnik Saga_**

 ** _––_**

 ** _–_**

 ** _CHAPTER TWO:_**

 ** _"Dumbledore's Beautiful, Dire Feet"_**

* * *

Draco Malfoy was up to something. He could not see his face in his hands; he had forgotten the potion over the last few hours, and reverted to desk business; clearly, he had a very watery plan in mind. At least, Harry and his hat thought that.

Harry's hat contracted with a sudden and rather unnerving twitch. Harry did not like the emphasis it put on the cloak billowing behind the goblin thief, but he did not want to let his anger spill out at it, and it did agree with him on the other occasions, so he pretended not to care about the fact that Ron was dying from the tip down.

Besides, Harry's hat contracting could only mean that Dumbledore was going back on the floor, and that was terrifying.

"Dumbledore!" bellowed Harry Potter. "The truth of the stairs began as a pair of pajamas, and got into bed. I want you to remember what form of a small voice it was. I want you wrist-banging, and Hermione has left me affectionately. Harry is my past, present and breakfast. It must be very lucky to be an old wizard, but now the broadcast is really getting stronger: YOU. MUST. THERE."

Harry clutched his wand at the ready, looking at him.

"Malfoy! " spoke Dumbledore. "Hepzibah!"

"Malfoy? Hepzibah?" he said hoarsely.

"Pleasure!" bellowed Dumbledore's great yellow nails as he struggled to remain upright.

Harry thought that was much too late for that.

Harry took a deep worn stone and threw it up at the headmaster's head, shouting "OGDEN!".

A few days later, several feet dragged their way to the castle and then, without raising the rest of the class, they proceeded to burn the old man to a sudden and rather bloody death.

Harry thoroughly enjoyed that, for all its pallor and weakness, but he had to keep his mind on the edge of the problem, and the swishing problem was Malfoy's legs. They had to be demolished.

Malfoy disliked Harry's plan.

A few seconds after Voldemort's burial, Harry yelled "Ogden", but before he realized it, Malfoy sniggered and pulled out a handful of new nimbus two thousands. The new nimbus two thousands experienced a thrill perfectly well, and they all seemed embarrassingly delighted at Harry's "Ogden". Draco Flitwick gasped for breath as a silver knife fried his eyes and buried itself firmly into his shoulder, but Draco Malfoy was standing beside him, again conspicuously sniggering.

Malfoy's legs were not being forcibly demolished.

Hermione had seen it all. She mechanically clicked her wand and her spectacles, flashing yellow in surprise.

"You are Hagrid now, Malfoy," she whispered gravely. "I'm lamplike, too, actually."

"No! No! …Seriously! I am your triumph! You love me longingly!" reached Harry.

Hermione gave him a clap on the back before catching sight of Voldemort, who seemed determined to avoid Harry seeing that he was not particularly dead.

"Oh dear," she said, "Harry, which deflated jar did Professor Dumbledore know best?"

While Harry answered, the dread Voldemort quietly legged it on the back of his half - laughing centaur slave, whose half - moon spectacles looked slightly earthier than usual.


	3. The Skirts of the Great Surprise

_**–**_

 _ **—**_

 _ **HARRY POTTER and the REST of the SENTENCE**_

 _ **Book II in the Botnik Saga**_

 _ **—**_

 _ **–**_

 _ **CHAPTER THREE:**_

 _ **"The Skirts of the Great Surprise"**_

* * *

"I am speaking," spoke Harry Potter. "And I think we should do this in the middle of the night. Centaurs sure mean to offend, you know? I would like to speak to them. And it will be painful."

"But," Hermione objected, "Harry, I doubt that going to the forest would be enough. You might strike the rest of'em with your uncanny worms, maybe? "

"That," said Harry, "is a bit good. Very well. …Hermione, you're _you_ in a way that I never noticed I want. "

She was blushing, looking alarmed as she continued to flutter darkly at Harry's tartan.

"…But Hagrid is dead!"

"Deathstick is dead," Harry said, "Professor is dead… all the same. I think it doesn't matter. Some of your people are dead too, yes? "

"Ghosts see what you have done."

"Oh, I know. …that's yours here."

Harry looked down and picked up the mangled remains of Hufflepuff's skirts. She did not pick up.

"Don't you think you'd get a clear benefit from one?"

Hermione seemed genuinely pristine as she replied by putting the rest of the sentence at the end of the sentence and the beginning of the kitchen at the start of the sentence.

"I would crouch to this end," she announced with a jolt.

"Ah. " said Harry. "That *is* a very irritating point."

No longer flooding the room, the skirts sharply vaulted back to their dormitory ; but they did not belong to the Castle. They hurried back up the stairs and turned into a cracked diary at him. Harry yawned. This was not remotely original. The cracked diary hastily dropped Slughorn, who absentmindedly quickened his pace and fled. It was a different plan, but it was too late. Harry said "OGDEN".

The assortment of objects sitting as a cracked diary hissed slightly as the train hit it in his throat. Then the whole thing, with the force of a giant snake, pounded up into the rafters, more and more rapidly, until forced calm came over it. As it was essentially quite dead.

Harry had to crane his neck to check, but unfortunately, it was not Draco Malfoy's.

At least thirty musical saws dropped from the ceiling.

Harry didn't have time to speak long before this injustice swiped away his voice, and he could not say OGDEN.

Hermione looked revolted as Malfoy sniggered from the ceiling and pulled himself down beside Harry.

"Harry," said Draco, "I don't like Harry."

Harry could not understand how this was happening.

"Er, I am colored string?" said Mrs. Harry, who was not being asked to give an opinion.

Harry really did not seem to understand how it had happened.

"And since I don't, " Draco weakly repeated, " I don't care for inflicting punishment upon you, but I don't care for inflicting any fragments of happiness on Harry, either. My father will be hearing about this! "

"And he will be paying! With much painful internal pulling of the death!"


	4. Ron Weasley's Magical Annoyance

_**—**_

 _ **HARRY POTTER and the REST of the SENTENCE**_

 _ **Book II in the Botnik Saga**_

 _ **—**_

 _ **–**_

 _ **CHAPTER FOUR:**_

 _ **"Ron Weasley's Magical Annoyance"**_

* * *

Lord Voldemort stood between the trees, folded as a joke. He could feel Ron's sobbing soul, as the pupil indignantly passed on. He called to his Death Eaters. The truth was that Ron was going to die watching his servants watering Voldemort's magical herbs, and the thought of it made him laugh.

"Here we are," said the cold voice of Draco the Death Eater. "This graveyard was prepared for some kind of horrified delight. I hope that it will be safe."

Just as Snape unrolled himself from the carpetbag, however, Hermione interrupted the Death Eaters, who looked immensely relieved. She had decided to get a good look at Ron with his killers.

"Don't mind me," said Hermione.

They didn't mind. Harry, on the other hand, thought that it was a lime floor of the telephone, and he explained what it felt like to the others.

Ron muttered about his father's tank while the librarian of the Castle splattered Roberta's blood on his bedside. Harry grew steadily more bored until he couldn't stand it anymore, and he seized his hand, shouting OGDEN.

Ron muttered under his breath about the tank again, but it was too late — his robes snarled and then turned into steam, obliterating the boy's flailing limbs for good. There was no point in time to dwell on the pretense of helping Ron. Harry stared at the back of his hand for no reason.

The Death Eaters stared at him for what seemed like hours.

The hours stared at the Death Eaters for what felt like a deep attraction.

Hermione drained their blood from their bags of magic for what seemed like an escalator.

Finally, the very sick wizards backed away, looking terrified.

Harry asked Hermione five questions he had been thinking about, and she swung forward, but said nothing.

Smartly, Harry turned back into a chair and said nothing to the bushy hair on her face.

But there was more beautiful things in this piece, too. Draco Malfoy was not one of them, but he was still trying to keep talking. He coughed a few stray doxies, and then he breathed:

"OGDEN, RISE there for ME!"

Harry sniffed Tonks and laughed at Malfoy's magical mischief, pointing his feet at him with similar despair. Draco's leg mysteriously became obscured by order of the great Harry Potter. Ogden raised his knife and fork and pulled every tiny spiders out from underneath Ron's chest, but he did nothing to help Malfoy, or Harry.

"But… you are supposed to look like a hunchback of green nylon!" said he, "you sure don't smile at Harry!"

Harry felt a horrible incident coming closer and closer. He whispered: OGDEN.

Instantly, Ron came back to Earth and pulled every other survivors out of the way. Ogden collapsed into the Goblin's grinning face, Hermione seemed to shrink into a kind of soft little black horse, and as for Draco Malfoy, his pale blue finger hunched itself at once and he flung himself out of the nearest greenhouse window.

Harry looked down at the jumble of magic and its horny slithering presence. He sighed. The truth was that the murder of Harry's many people meant nothing. But payment would have to be seen being paid, with much pain.


	5. Yer a Hagrid, Voldy!

_**—**_

 _ **HARRY POTTER and the REST of the SENTENCE**_

 _ **Book II in the Botnik Saga**_

 _ **—**_

 _ **–**_

 _ **CHAPTER FIVE:**_

 _ **"Yer a Hagrid, Voldy!"**_

* * *

"Wait", said Lord Voldemort, who had not yet managed to get rid of them. "I am Hagrid!"

Harry stared into the darkness of Lord Voldemort's magical eyeballs and saw nothing but swirling pupils of blood. He could see that he had no alternative.

But Harry knew that Hagrid couldn't be there ; he was sure that the murder of the Groundskeeper had been minutely completed. He was sure because it had been committed by Harry himself.

Ron said nothing but he didn't faint. Gilderoy and Harry took it as a reminder of the death he had just emerged from.

"You're not Hagrid," Harry said finally.

"Lies! I am friend Hagrid and you are therefore about to laugh at my book of spells and hug my third cold hands! That is an order! An express order! Of friendly old elephant me!"

Lord Voldemort was getting desperate. Ron smirked.

"You do realize that Harry is going to say… something… to you in a moment, then you will die?" asked Ron.

"I don't. I am not intelligent, I am Hagrid friend! Seriously, which way back can lying?"

"I don't understand what you're saying," Harry said.

"YES!" he reproachfully replied. "Hagrid is our king of not being asked because he didn't be overheard or understood! I AM HAGRID!"

Lord Voldemort produced a tail, twigs, and a couple of spiders to prove himself. Their hooves were unconvincingly fake.

Realizing that he was not remotely believed, the Dark Lord Nasty reflected on the meaning of identity at the children, looking around in a kind of horrified trance. Harry whispered to Hermione that he thought Lord Voldemort was a gash in the face of magic, and chuckled at his own stupid thing. Hermione on the other hand didn't feel that it was all that funny.

But then, Lord Voldemort laughed without warning and said:

"Fools! Badges spiral out of control every time! It means nothing at all! I am different, because I estimate possible ways to get dressed according to their total silence, and that's how I became a great dentist."

Ron blinked ; Hermione merely shrugged. As for Gilderoy, he had just been swallowed into a random hole in the air, from which he never ever returned.

But Harry.

Oh, Harry.

Harry felt a great overreaction. He bit his fingers, staring at the place where Gilderoy should have been, and then roared in pain:

"OGGGGGGGDEN!"

This was too much. Not only did Slender Man brandish a few stray doxies, not only did another somersault face its death with honor and brew Polyjuice, but butterbeer poured in flood from the eyes of Harry Potter, expelling Mr Voldemort away from the others and drowning Weasley.

Ron, he didn't really care. The Weasley had just emerged from another death and he had found it difficult to gather his thoughts when inhabiting a brain ; he was almost glad to be melting back into his own skeletal remains.

Besides, living with Harry Potter was not entirely 'living'.


	6. There Isn't One

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:** _You may think that Chapter 6 was late. But you would be mistaken. The truth is, there isn't a Chapter 6. That's just how it is. I don't make the rules, Ogden does. I mean Harry. I mean JK Rowlign. I mean Ogden. So… here is what Chapter 6 could have been, if it had existed. And coming tomorrow on schedule is the actual next chapter, Chapter 7. May Ogden be with you!_

 _ **—**_

 _ **HARRY POTTER and the REST of the SENTENCE**_

 _ **Book II in the Botnik Saga**_

 _ **—**_

 _ **–**_

 _ **CHAPTER SIX:**_

 _ **"There Isn't One"**_

* * *

All there was around Chapter 6 was:

a gorilla,

a little cross,

and a placatingly unlikely void.

For the first time ever, Harry Potter retired to his feet and slept.


	7. The Return of Ollivander

_**—**_

 _ **HARRY POTTER and the REST of the SENTENCE**_

 _ **Book II in the Botnik Saga**_

 _ **—**_

 _ **–**_

 _ **CHAPTER SEVEN:**_

 _ **"The Return of Ollivander"**_

* * *

"What happened to Chapter 6?" asked the Goblin.

"I don't snide," said Harry, resentful. "But it was there before, and then it turned fruitless. I hate turning fruitless. Chapter 6 will be paying, with much pain."

Harry crushed windows of Hagrid's Hut in a huff and looked at Hermione's magical face with a slight smile. He gazed courteously into her trumpet, and, screwing himself to the pedestal on which they both stood, because of the gravity, he added a third kiss to her mouth to the long list of her ill - gotten possessions.

"You're a great asiatic smell," said Hermione, whose mind was a gash in the darkness.

"I know. " said Harry. "I knowledge. "

"And your hands are of parchment, and your heart be me treasure. "

Harry dropped his girlfriend abruptly, looking alarmed.

"You're not a little pirouette pirate, are you?" he asked, concerned.

"I don't think so, Slouchy," answered the bookish Gryffindor glum girl.

"Don't call me that, " objected the Boy who lived in a pool.

"But I like that name! "

"I don't. "

"…Hermione isn't a quill," said Hermione. "Not at all, Ally."

"Don't call wizarding wonder Harry Potter the Great and Surprising that! Or I will be sure to cast a dark curse at you."

"Ogg… Ogden?" asked Hermione, feverish with excitement and the sound of thunderous footfalls.

"No. The Deplorable Word is too powerful to be of use disciplining lady friends. It would shatter floor, past, ceiling, present, chimney, uncle. And that's terrible. And I would have to pay. With much pain. "

Their conversation about what the word _throat_ really meant was cut short, because a balding wizard sympathetically wheezed that he would be honored to encounter them. He dashed around much faster than a snitch, which was odd for his age. Aghast, Harry yelled that he was in fact a large bag of sweet Boy-Who-Lived flesh. The balding wizard, who had horn-rimmed glasses, seemed very interested. His Centaur slave agreed.

"I am definitely not the Dark Lord," said the probable Dark Lord.

"You are definitely the Dark Lord," said Harry, with a sigh so weary that a fictional camping site grew toast on its apple-trees. "You have to die."

"I am a balding whizzing wizard's magical theory!"

"Then I suggest you remember that theory isn't possible," said Harry, grim and grimy. "Dispute is not permitted. Die, Tomato Riddle. OGLING OGDEN'S ENJOY!"

The super-secret variant of the "yelled Ogden" tactic worked on the spot. The evil tomato was covered in mud, bubbling sluggishly at the teenagers. His false beard fell off toward Madam Hooch, who didn't find it superb.A bat Scrimgeour brusquely convinced the Goblins of Gringotts Wizarding Bank to paint a rebellion of the death on the front door of their bank, Gringoots Wizarding Bank Bank. Bank. This drove the Goblins (but not the Goblin) so badly scrawled, so angry, so very very hideous that they revolted against wizards. But not all wizards. Just the wizard. The wizard with the balding beard and the horn-rimmed glasses and an enslaved character for a charity.

They rushed at the once-different inducer of anxiety, Tomato Hagrid Riddle, known as Mrs Voldemort Smith to the public. And they killed him with an ominous feeling. All according to plan.

But there was something Harry in all his wisdom could never have foreseen.

Standing in the wreckage of a fallen fifty Death Eaters…

it was… OLLIVANDER!


	8. Prophecy Repeats Itself

_**—**_

 _ **HARRY POTTER and the REST of the SENTENCE**_

 _ **Book II in the Botnik Saga**_

 _ **—**_

 _ **–**_

 _ **CHAPTER EIGHT:**_

 _ **"Prophecy Repeats Itself"**_

* * *

Mr Ollivander drove his motorcycle up the stairs and turned to face Harry and Hermione. Excitedly, he said:

"Jolly good! Wand imitation is just dreadful, I find, don't you agree?"

Harry knew that Ollivander's magical education was still very pale, and that he had just run a great deal of illegal wand sacks. His hysterical slurps did not speak for themselves, but Harry was clever.

"What are you doing?" he asked the other.

"Only my third time in hours, my boy " Ollivander said mysteriously. "Only in the great black cylinder of a History Wand can you know the worst is coming to a sudden resurgence!"

Hermione, elbowing him, said:

"Harry, face him and the rest of it. Buy it. Fiercely."

Harry yawned ostentatiously and roared at the wandmaker.

"Very well, " Harry said loudly. "Here is our king… money! Spend it with distaste."

Ollivander took the newspaper Harry had given him for his wand, before giving harry the black object he had picked out. The History Wand.

Harry held it up to the light as though checking for a watermark, although he knew that his whole story would collapse with the force of the great black magic if he tried to draw it on purpose. His eyes hissed at Hermione's father and he whispered:

"Ogden."

Immediately, Sirius Black 's screeches echoed around the Room of Requirement, shouting Prophecy.

 _"The One who can not save a thing he ever cared about will be given up as a bad job!_

 _The Dark Lord Voldemort s name written on a small crystal ball will be able to find that withered precious man!_

 _He shall be seen once more and raising the empty vase up at Dumbledore!_

 _"he One who can not save a thing he ever cared about will be given up as a bad job!_

Harry felt a horrible jolt.

Dumbledore was no party tricks. Ron neither. Crossed, Harry tried to remember what form Voldemort owned. Many people were staring at Harry.

Harry said, "Kitchen", then realized that he had just run briskly to Snape.

"Hello, Mr Potter, " said Snape.

Snape obligingly stretched out his hand to push himself back to the Gryffindor Common Room, calmly looking for a small crystal ball to be used to fulfill the great black cylinder 's voice Prophecy. He found the first thing he saw was a gorilla, and, refraining from yelling with enormous affection, he severed the neck of the creature. The next thing Professor Snape had was a lump of wood, under which Zacharias Smith had happened to hide his mother.

"Where to begin our search?" said Snape, who looked furious.

"We have already, " Harry confessed with a slight smile.

He picked up a fistful of leaves and began to feed them blood.

Meanwhile, the vampire Lavender Brown remembered what she was and immediately checked her wand. She realized that it was a small crystal ball.

She knew what was coming. She wrote.

Lord Voldemort soon reached the entrance to Harry's life with a feeling of great personal satisfaction. He smelled the door of the Brain Room. No, certainly Harry was not sure to be in the room. But perhaps that could be delicious. For a fraction of a reason. Was he not a fraction face?


End file.
